"The front door needs varnishing," I said to the smiling man in the shop. "One litre of mahogany varnish, please."

His smile dropped. "I recognise you," he said backing away slightly. "Aren’t you that wizard? You don’t need varnish. Just put a spell on the door.""I’m not that sort of wizard," I smiled. "Healers never put spells on anything. We only help whoever’s in need.’ His smile returned, and he took a pace forwards. "There’s a lot needed here," he said as he nodded towards another assistant.

The dark-eyed lady was saying goodbye to a customer. Her energy felt as dark as her eyes.

The split second the customer left, her face changed to a snarl. "That ******* customer. He wanted to know what ******* type of brass the ***** locks are made from!""Did you tell him?" I asked. "I ******** work here. It’s ****** obvious what **** brass they're made from. It’s ******* shiny brass!""Perhaps he needed to know if the brass was for exterior use, or for a yacht in the harbour?" I suggested. "She hesitated before repeating, "They’re all ******* SHINY brass!"Over-reactions have a cause. Being psychic, we're sometimes 'guided' with questions. "Do you enjoy your job?" I asked. The response shook me."No I don’t! I’d rather have ******* needles in my ***** eyes!"Needles in her eyes! Maybe she doesn't want to see something in life. And then it all poured out, about how her mentally ill son was arrested whilst carrying a meat cleaver to teach someone who had bumped into him a lesson and he can't see it was wrong. And how her son’s Japanese wife could not take the aggravation and had returned to Japan with the grandchildren, two and four years old and she can't see how the grandparents felt. And how her husband who usually ran the shop had gone to Japan to visit the grandchildren and already they can’t speak to him in English only Japanese and he can't see how to communicate with them. And how her son’s wife had said to her husband that she doesn’t want the children and he can take them back to England, and she can't see the problems. And how her husband feels bad and won’t take the children away from their mother because he can't see a win-win outcome. And how she feels like going to Japan to sort them out but can't see how she could do it. And how her son is still in a mental hospital here, and can't see a way out.

"But it doesn’t bother me," she added. "I just put it all out of my mind."She mentioned the words "can't see" many times. I can see why she wants needles in her eyes. Like countless others, she’d rather not see or face her problems. Until one day, for some, there's a crash.

Maybe this is her crash? "You might think you put it all out of your conscious mind,’ I said, looking at the eczema on her face and hands. "But sometimes it comes out unconsciously in another way, such as in your skin..." I added gently, "Or even swearing..." She thought for a few moments, before saying, "Yes, I suppose it does. It also affects my diabetes and blood pressure. The doctor told me to relax, but I don’t want medication up to my eyeballs.""Suppose there was another way to relax, without drugs? Would you do it?""Yes, I probably would."I pulled a CD from my bag. "I wondered why I brought my CD today. Maybe its your Destiny. An academic at the Institute of Psychiatry in London said it’s probably the best thing in the world for stress."

She glared, as if thinking I was about to sell her 'shiny brass'. "It's safe," I said. "If this was a free gift, would you promise to use it for three months?""Yes," she said. She almost smiled. "I promise." I believed her. A light had entered the darkness of her eyes.

"You see?" I said to the man. "No spells used! I'll take the mahogany door varnish, please."

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Author

See my weird-but-true first blog post on December 1st 2011, for an overview of my polymath, joyful and horrid fairy tale life. Taste the yummy, Godly, disgusting and loving ingredients of future posts - all truthful, with just a little artistic licence.

If writing is the fruit of sin, I must have sinned greatly. Otherwise how was I cured after decades of being 80% disabled; how did I earn merits at a university creative writing course for poetry, fiction and non-fiction; and how did I travel and lecture on TV and radio internationally? I must surely have sinned in wonderfully fun ways.